The city was deceptively calm that morning, sunlight spilling across the marble floors of the villa as if the world had finally decided to give them peace. Aria stood by the nursery window, her hand resting protectively over the gentle swell of her belly, watching the garden come alive with the sound of cicadas. For months, it had been quiet, too quiet. The wars were over, alliances had been drawn, and the enemies who once haunted their steps had either fallen or fled. Luca, still scarred from battles both seen and unseen, had begun to breathe again. He was downstairs now, arguing with one of their security heads about tightening perimeters, though he'd promised her that everything was fine.
But peace never truly lasted long in their world. It lingered like a truce written in sand, beautiful, temporary, and one wave away from destruction.
